


The Moonlight Deceives

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [8]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, and they finally figure their shit out, or do they??, r e a d to find out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Race and Spot are exhausted from fighting (pt 3 of 3)





	The Moonlight Deceives

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Finishing a three part mini series in less than twenty four hours? More likely than you'd think

Despite being exhausted, Race’s brain wouldn’t turn off for long enough to let him get any sleep. Crying yourself to sleep was great in concept but rather hard in practice, as he’d found out time and time again.

He could have woken up Jack if he really wanted to, god knows he would have stayed up all night if he asked, but guilt had settled onto his chest and he couldn’t bring himself to get up.

So, he’d been staring at the ceiling for the last hour or so, the clock on Jack’s DVR read 4:12 am. Spot used to call 4am the witching hour, he’d heard the phrase once and used to make Race stay up till four with him and try and tell dumb ghost stories. They were always exhausted and ended up falling asleep in class the next day, but it was worth it. 

A part of him was still struggling to understand the whole situation between them. Fighting with them wasn’t usually that charged, usually they could work out their issues without trying to  _ hurt _ each other like that. Because truly that’s what they tried to do, hurt each other.

Something had been going on behind the scenes for both of them. Race was obviously worried out of his mind when Spot disappeared for a few days, but if he was being totally honest he’d been seeing Sarah for a while to try and get his thoughts straightened out. 

Seeing her as a shrink instead of a friend was a little weird but he got over it. And so, they’d been dredging up a lot of stuff the last couple of weeks and it had started to overwhelm him, bleeding into his personal life little by little.

And he knew Spot hadn’t gone and cheated on him or anything like that, he didn’t even know why he thought that in the moment, but something had gone on that he didn’t know about, something that hurt Spot.

He’d spent the last decade trying to beat the shit out of anything that hurt Spot, and now he didn’t know what he was taking a swing at.

The moonlight from Jack’s window softly brushed his face as he considered all this, popping each of his knuckles as he did. Spot always went off about how that would cause arthritis or something, but he kept at it anyway.

Right about that time, he heard something outside Jack’s window. Sort of a creaking and he would have thought it a rat if it didn’t let out a string of curses after the next creak.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he squinted and tried to make out anything that could be on the fire escape. 

This witching hour shit had never really gotten to him before, but it’s hard to deny when there’s a shape hunched over outside your window at 4 o’clock in the morning. 

Slowly getting up, he inched his way toward the window, tensing as he got closer.

The shape turned then, and Race was caught between crying and laughing. 

“Spot?”

* * *

 

Jack’s fucking apartment building sucked, okay? Spot had been working his way up the fire escape and he genuinely felt like a strong breeze could knock the damn thing over.

He’d started climbing the thing a good twenty minutes ago, Jack lived on the third floor so he thought, like a normal human being, that it would take ten minutes if he stopped to contemplate the fucking view.

But no. Between his decently fucked up hand and the fact that the fire escape was rusted almost completely through and housed more than a normal amount of rats, it was going to take him a year at his current rate.

Not to mention the fact that for four in the morning on a Friday, the place was banging. Literally, to some degree. He’d gone passed a few windows where somehow people were still going at it.

Animals, really.

But the one advantage to be on New York’s shitties fire escape was it gave him plenty of time to try and figure out what he was going to say to Race when he got up there.

There was a solid seventy percent chance that he was sleeping, so he figured that he might as well wake him if he was. The image Race finding him passed out on Jack’s floor when he woke up was a little pathetic for his taste.

Obviously he’d apologize, straight to the point. He’d fucked up, and Race didn’t need to have that shit taken out on him, not now not ever.

After that though, he was sort of winging it. If Race was still pissed, which would be extremely fair, he was at a point where he’d do pretty much anything to make it up for him.

Nothing like facing your own vulnerability to put everything into a different sort of perspective. 

Jack and Davey were saps, so they’d gone off about love enough for Spot to understand that he loved Race, really, truly loved him.

So, he’d probably go into that once he got up there, because this was a do or die sort of moment and he was sick and tired of holding back.

The moon had gotten lower on the horizon while he’d been climbing, and just as he, finally, got to Jack’s window, the moonlight lit him up enough that he could see that he was still wearing Race’s bloodstained t-shirt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

God that really wasn’t going to help with his image right now, he looked like he’d been fucking stabbed on the way here. He turned toward the window to try and catch his reflection and froze.

“Spot?”

* * *

 

Race squinted as Spot started fumbling with the lip of the window. Jack always left it open, as a lot of kids from their old group homes crashed here. They were actually really lucky nobody was crashing here tonight.

Spot got it open, sort of tripping when he climbed in and shut it behind him. 

“Is that blood?” Race was at Spot’s side in a second and started reaching for his shirt because that was definitely blood and Spot was grabbing his arm now and he didn’t know what was going on.

If it hadn’t been for the look on Spot’s face he would have tried to say something.

“I’m fine, cut my hand s’all.” 

Race’s eyes flicked to Spot’s hand, which was in fact pretty shittily bandaged and specked lightly with blood. He’d have to rewrap it, Spot had never been any good at it.

“Racer,” Spot started, ignoring the way Race’s breath hitched a bit at the nickname, “I just, I fucked up, really bad, okay?”

When Race tried to interject Spot kept going. “No, I shouldn't've said all that shit, and disappeared like that without calling you or anything. I’m just, I’m  _ so _ sorry.”

He could feel tears pricking at his eyes and fuck he really wished that he had cried himself out earlier because he didn’t need this right now. “Me too Spotty.”

For some reason, that felt like enough for the moment. There was a lot left unsaid that they would have to get to eventually, but it was four thirty in the morning and Spot was pulling Race in for a hug in a bloody t-shirt, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

“Can we go to bed Spotty?” Race said softly from where his head was buried in Spot’s hair.

“What? The witching hour isn’t good enough for you?”

He chuckled and felt Spot’s own laugh more than he heard it. But either way, they did walk over to the shitty pull-out and collapse next to each other. 

Able to curl into Spot’s side, sleep finally started to pull at Race, and he let it.

The last thing he heard before the edges of his mind faded away was staticy and soft. But he heard it either way.

“I love you Race.”

* * *

 

Spot woke up and was greeted with the unpleasant realization that he wasn’t in his own bed. 

The night came back to him rather fast, and seeing Race curled into his chest with his curls sticking up in every direction was the most comforting thing he’d seen in a while.

It was almost noon according to Jack’s clock, but from the look of Race, he’d be here for a few more hours at least.

He didn’t care though. No, he just shut his eyes again and wrapped his arms around Race’s chest. 

They both needed this, and as far as he was concerned the rest of the world could fuck off for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> So god I was super motivated to finish this little mini series for whatever reason
> 
> I adore feedback so comment below if you can or leave kudos!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
